Tell me that was an embarrassment. She said it wasn't embarrassment. Then what was it? He stopped walking, stood still on the driveway between their two houses, looked at her. It was fear, he said.
That is what it was. Not of you. Not of them exactly. He paused. Fear of becoming a story that someone else tells about me.
The kind of story where I am what I look like before I get to be who I am. Clare was very quiet for a moment. I understand that, she said. I know you understand it. I mean, I really understand it.
Not just I hear you. She looked at him steadily. But Darius, I need you to hear me say something and not get defensive. Okay. You spend so much time expecting people to judge you that sometimes you judge the situation before they even get the chance.
He went very still. It was not the kind of thing he was used to hearing. Not because it was harsh, but because it was surgical, the kind of sentence that finds the exact right place and presses it and you feel it because it's true. That's not fair, he said. I'm not trying to be fair.
I'm trying to be honest. Her voice didn't waver. I've watched you. You walk into a room and before anyone has done anything, you've already decided what they're going to do to you. And sometimes you're right.
Tonight with Tom, you were right. That was real and I saw it and I'm not dismissing it. She paused. But sometimes you close the curtains before you even know if anyone's looking. The silence between them was very full.
He thought about what she'd said. He turned it over slowly, the way he turned over problems that deserved a real look. You might be right, he said at last. I know I'm right, she said. Then softer.
And I also know that you got to right by being careful your whole life. I'm not asking you to stop being careful. I'm asking you to be careful about what you're protecting yourself from. He looked at the space between their houses, the 30 ft, the driveway, the driveway light on her porch that came on automatically at dusk and was slightly too bright, which he kept meaning to change the bulb on. He looked at her.
I'm going to get it wrong sometimes. He said, "So am I. I mean, specifically the thing you just called me on. I'm going to do it again probably soon. I know.
And you're not going to I'm not going anywhere." She said, "I told you that weeks ago, and I meant it. He was quiet for one more long moment. The kind of quiet that is not emptiness, but wait, the weight of two people standing in it together instead of alone. The curtain rod thing," he said.